


Anything you can do I can do better

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bad psychotherapy, Crack, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Determined to be as good as First Aid at everything First Aid does, Hook starts counseling sessions with his team. The first one doesn't exactly go as planned, however.</p><p>Written for tf_speedwriting. Prompt - 'therapy.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything you can do I can do better

 

So First Aid was back! And already his reputation was spreading, apparently every Autobot on Earth and Cybertron was clamoring to see him, and even Decepticons had joined the queue.

Hook seethed with indignation. How dare he just waltz on to this planet and steal the thunder? And it was all because First Aid indulged in this ridiculous form of treatment, this ‘therapy’ that he was so proud of.

Hook paced, his hands balling into fists. First Aid ‘counseled’ mechs; He made them ‘feel good about themselves.’ Was Hook not equally capable of injecting such fantasies into Cybertronian processors?

Well Hook determined that, come what may, he would offer such a service himself. And it would be better. Yes! Soon First Aid’s waiting room would be empty, his own cluttered with mechs and femmes anxious to sample his ‘techniques.’ These would, inevitably, be superior. Just like everything Hook did.

And it would start with Hook’s own team. He activated his comm. “Scavenger!” he snapped. “You may come in now!”

……

The excavator looked bewildered as he sat down, tucking his tail underneath him. “You – er – wanted to see me?” he said.

“Yes …” Hook smiled, as these ‘therapists’ apparently were meant to do at the start of sessions. So it said in the tutorial he’d forced himself to undertake on the galactic web earlier. “You just sit there and relax, Scavenger.”

Perching on the edge of the seat, Scavenger looked anything but relaxed. Hook made a mental note to get a couch – which was also, as he understood it, part of the paraphernalia. And some of those smelly oils, which – supposedly – set the ‘mood.'

Scavenger shifted, looking nervous. “What’s the problem?” he asked.

“No problem,” Hook smiled some more. “I just want you to tell me how you’re – _feeling._ ”

Scavenger’s optics widened in alarm. He looked around him, as though he expected a bevy of Autobots to burst through the door. “Why?” he whispered.

“Because I am your doctor!” Hook spread his arms in a magnanimous gesture. "And you need to be able to tell me."

Scavenger’s hands knitted in his lap. His tail twitched as his optics darted about, avoiding Hook’s at first and then settling on them. “But you’re my team mate,” he said. “And you never gave a pit before. So why d’you wanna know now?”

Hook felt his patience ebbing. But he remembered the tutorial. “Because I _care!”_ he smiled.

Scavenger frowned. “No you don’t!” he said.

“Yes, I do, Scavenger.”

“You don’t! I’m the lowest cog in the wheel around here.”

“Now don’t be melodramatic. Of course I care.”

“Well you never gave that impression before …”

“Look, I CARE, all right?” Hook’s temper snapped. “Now tell me how you feel. That’s an order!”

Scavenger cowered in front of him. “All right, alright …” Then, a thin smile appeared.  “OK - if you say so. What d’you wanna know?”

Hook took deep intakes, determined this would proceed as in the tutorial. “I want to know about your innermost hopes and fears. Things that might be troubling you at the moment.”

Scavenger looked at him blankly. “Like what?”

“Well I don’t know, do I?” Hook snapped. “Whatever you want to tell me!”

Scavenger frowned, evidently thinking about this prospect. Then he resettled himself, rearranging his tail. “All right,” he said, jutting his chin out. “Actually, I quite welcome the chance to have my say.”

“Good, good …” Hook smiled. _Now_ they were getting somewhere.

“Well here it is!” Scavenger said. “I feel like scrap, a lot of the time. Long Haul treats me like a mechalescent. Boney can’t keep his hands off my tail, all Mix wants to do is get me out of it so he can have his way, and nobody cares about my geology skills. All anyone ever wants me to do is dig holes!”

Hook frowned, nodding. This wasn’t exactly anything new – in fact the information was rather tiresome. But the tutorial had said that you should listen to whatever they said and appear ‘understanding. He folded his hands in his lap.  “Please go on!” he said pleasantly.

“Yeah, well that’s how it is. You wanted to know!” Then Scavenger looked straight at Hook.  “And then there’s you – of course …”

“Me?  Tell me how you feel about me, Scavenger.” This should be interesting. And good for Hook’s ego. There had been nothing in the tutorial which forbade that.

Scavenger took a deep intake. “You don’t even like me!” he retorted. “You never wanted me in this team in the first place! I you only went along with it cos you were voted out by everyone else. And now I have to put up with you and your condescending attitude for the rest of my life!”

Well that was surprising. To say the least! “Now Scavenger,” Hook's optic ridges knitted. “Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?”

“No, I don’t!” Scavenger’s optics glowed, brightly, as though he were suddenly inspired by some unseen force. “You’re an arrogant piece of pit, Hook! You strut around thinking you have some kind of _sway_ over the Universe!”

This was outrageous. “I beg your pardon!" Hook roared. "I only happen to be the finest surgeon on Cybertron, _if you don’t mind!”_

“I do mind!” Scavenger cried. “You carry on like a total aft! You talk to everyone like dirt, you treat me like the pit and …and … and …” his optics narrowed, “you monopolize Scrapper!”

Hook was on his feet. “I do NOT!” he yelled.

“Yes you do!” Scavenger was up as well, his hands balling into fists. “I could have had a thing with him! But instead, you’re always there, demanding all his attention. You never let me get a look in!”

Now this was just plain ridiculous. “And since when did you ever have a thing for Scrapper?” Hook snarled. "As if he'd even be interested in you!"

“Why d’you think I ever came into this team?” Scavenger yelled. His tail thrashed, sending the therapy chair flying. It landed on the other side of the room with a crash. “And he might have been. But _you_ ruined everything!”

Hook could not remember being so incensed. “I see no point in continuing this conversation!” he yelled.

“Good! Well neither do I!”

The door hissed shut after Scavenger, and his angry footsteps echoed away down the corridor. Striding across to the cabinet, Hook yanked it open. Pulling out a flask of Mixmaster’s special, he wrenched it open and hastily took a large gulp.

It calmed him – if only a little. Therapy! Hadn’t he always said it was a load of claptrap? _I rest my case_ , he muttered through gritted denta.

Nevertheless, Hook would give it one more try. Given the apparent importance of the rubbish and the fact that he was _damned_ if First Aid would be better at _anything_ than him.

With this fact firmly in mind, Hook activated his comm. “Bonecrusher! I will see you now!’ he snapped. “And if you act like a smart aft, this will end as quickly as it did with Scavenger!”


End file.
